


Noah Argent and the Case of the Terrible Stiles Stilinski

by redkislington



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (supposedly), Crush at First Sight, M/M, Noah Argent - Freeform, Unrequited Crush, oblivious boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkislington/pseuds/redkislington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah Argent, after being bitten by a rogue alpha, comes to Beacon Hills to stay with his Uncle and Cousin to stay alive. He finds himself roped into the McCall-Hale pack on his first day and finds himself ridiculously drawn to a certain Stiles Stilinski. This is his story of how terrible his life is. (Or really, how much better his life is with Stiles, not that he'd admit that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Case of Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii. :D I decided to join in on the Noah Argent thing. I plan on their just being various snippets of various interactions with Noah and the pack - but mostly with Stiles. 
> 
> I haven't quite decided if that Mature rating will change or not. Whatever my brain comes up with, I guess.

“ _Mister Argent!_ ”

 

Noah jumped, lifting his head up groggily from his arms to stare around him. _Oh._ He... forgot he was in school. He shifted around, sitting up and trying to discreetly wipe the drool from his face, only to see everyone in the class staring at him. “Wha...?”

 

The teacher cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “In case you forgot, this is a _classroom_ , not your home. You can't just go to sleep in the middle of a lecture. I won't have to remind you of this again, will I?”

 

“No.” Noah blurted, trying to blink the lingering drowsiness away. “No, sir.”

 

The man nodded, then continued the lesson. Noah tried to stay awake, but it was just so _hard._ He felt like he hadn't slept for days. Then again, that wasn't too far from the truth. Ever since he'd gotten the bite he'd been spending almost every second of the day training, honing his senses and his control, and researching as much as he could about werewolves.

 

Sure, he'd spend most of his time researching them from before he was bitten, but that was from the _hunter's side_. Now, he needed to know how to _be_ one, and hopefully without killing anyone.

 

He hadn't even noticed that class had ended, the bell quiet under his loud thoughts scrambling for attention. He did notice, however, when a hand touched his shoulder, shocking him out of his own head and he saw the classroom was quickly emptying of students.

 

“You okay, dude?” He looked up to see Stiles staring down at him, worried. “You look exhausted.”

 

“M'fine.” Noah mumbled, gathering his things together and shoving them haphazardly into his bag. “Not getting much sleep is all.”

 

Stiles frowned, then followed after him when he started walking out of the room. “Hey, I know you're trying to get the hang of your... changes, but... I could help?”

 

Noah stopped, then turned to Stiles, giving him a blank look. Stiles threw up his hands. “What? I could! I helped Scott out when he was first starting out. I could totally help you.”

 

Noah perked up a little at that. “Really? The Scott who has control like... whoa?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Dunno if I'd say it like that, but yeah.”

 

Noah chewed on his lip as he looked over Stiles. He wondered how it was at first, Stiles finding out about the werewolves. If he already knew before Scott or found out with Scott. How he'd helped a new werewolf through everything that was driving Noah insane, the excess sounds and scents and sights actually giving him a headache, and the low buzz of aggression under his skin.

 

Noah grinned, shifting his bag on his shoulder and nodding. “Yeah, that would great.” He could use the help. And he'd maybe gotten just a little bit fond of Stiles the few days he's been here. Just a little, though.

 

Stiles perked up. “Awesome! Then how about we meet up after school to start out.”

 

They arranged to meet in the parking lot, where Stiles would drive them over to the preserve to do some exercises for his control.

 

The warning bell rang and they both went their separate ways. Noah would forever argue that the only reason for his huge, stupid grin as he walked off to Contemporary English was for the prospect of getting control of his instincts and urges, of getting to be as good at this whole _being-a-werewolf_ thing as Scott.

 

Because it definitely wasn't for Stiles, _at all._

 

And he _hated_ Contemporary English more than _Everything_.

 

 

The bundle of energy Noah had been riding on since talking to Stiles had considerably dwindled during the rest of the school day. By last period he was ready to pass out at his desk again. He glanced out the window as Coach rambled on about something that probably didn't have a thing to do with Econ, and let his mind wander off.

 

He imagined the training session coming up with Stiles, imagined Stiles sweaty and panting with exertion, proud little grin on his face directed at Noah. He could smell the trees and river water not too far, and the scent of Stiles' teenage boy scent of arousal and sweat and excitement. It was so... _vivid_. Like the past hour had just raced by, and they were already there in the preserve. He could feel as Stiles rushed at him, grappling onto his hands and torso like an octopus, limbs everywhere. The scent right there in front of him. Making his mouth water as he was distracted by the dip in Stiles' collarbone about half an inch from his face. Distracted by thoughts of dipping his tongue into it, tasting the spike of salt and soap on his skin. Of pressing his teeth into Stiles' pale throat until it bruised up nicely, showing everyone that Stiles' was _his_ , and...

 

“Argent!”

 

Noah jumped, blinking his gaze away from, uh, from Stiles, who was staring back at the commotion, and turned to the direction of the noise. He saw a big, hulking man staring at him, half amused half disgusted. “You can quit staring at Stilinski's ass anytime now.”

 

Noah felt his skin heat up and ducked his head, feeling Stiles' eyes on him along with most of the class. He didn't hear the teacher berating the other student for interrupting the class. All he could hear was his own blood rushing through his ears, mix of anger and embarrassment making his skin itch. He could hear his heart beat ratcheting up, and his fingertips ache with the extending of his claws.

 

Oh, _oh no_.

 

Without a word, Noah shot up from his desk, practically running out of the classroom, not caring what consequences would come from it. He could explain it to Chris if need be. He ran down the halls, keeping his head down and his hands tucked in his pockets as his vision went red at the edges.

 

Bursting into the bathroom down the hall, he blasted the cold water and shoved his head down under it, gasping in a mouthful of water and choking on it.

 

When he was done coughing, he found his vision back to normal, his nail's normal, blunt, bitten-off nails, and Stiles leaning against the wall in front of the door, watching him.

 

When he came back up for air Stiles smiled. “Good. You're back.” He pounded out a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to Noah. “I wasn't sure if you'd completely left campus or not, figured I'd check here first, though.” He shrugged. “I don't think anyone would've been too upset if you would've, literally, ripped Eugene a new one. Guy's a _douche_.”

 

That surprised a laugh out of Noah, and Stiles' grin extended. He watched Noah for a few moments as he tried his best to dry his sopping wet hair with the paper towels, then looked up when the bell for dismissal rang.

 

Stiles looked back down at him, tilting his head back to the door as he hefted up Noah's backpack that he'd left in his haste to get away. “You all good now?”

 

Noah nodded, combing his wet hair back with his fingers and licking his lips as he took his bag back. Stiles continued to watch him, almost... like he was analyzing Noah's every move. He shifted uneasily under Stiles' intense gaze for a few more seconds, then started toward the door. “Well, we should get going, so we can get as much done as we can before it gets too dark.”

 

“Mmm.” Stiles hummed behind him, and Noah thought for a moment he could scent the small spike in the arousal wafting from the slightly younger boy.

 

Nope, just my imagination, surely. I'm still hung up on that day dream from earlier... _Mmm_.

 

Noah climbed up into the passenger seat of the jeep, letting his mind go back to the delicious images from earlier. He could stand a little bit of relaxation time before training. And... thinking about these wonderful scenarios that were probably not going to happen, well... Alright, maybe daydreaming of licking Stiles all over until he was shuddering and begging wasn't exactly mellowing, but it did put a damper on his anger from earlier. He would count it as relaxing.

 

They pulled up to a clearing in the preserve not too far from the shell of the Hale house. The image of the blackened walls and the knowledge that it was his mom that did it made him feel sick. The memory of Derek Hale's face at seeing him and knowing exactly who he was... He would much rather his training take place somewhere a bit further away but according to Stiles it was best to do it as close to the center of their territory as possible, just in case. Given what Noah had heard of creatures that had rampaged their way through Beacon Hill's since Scott was turned, he could understand. But the knowledge that he was that close to it still made him uneasy.

 

“Relax.” Stiles said as he dragged out his lacrosse bag from the back of the jeep. Stiles grinned at him. “We're going to work on keeping your control when you're angry. After today I think that's a good place to start.”

 

Noah watched as Stiles put on his lacrosse gear, feeling his face scrunch up in confusion. “What are you planning to do to get me angry?” He asked, eying the stick in Stiles' hand uneasily.

 

Stiles just smirked, loading a ball into the net. “Just stay still.”

 

 

“I hate you so much.” Noah grumbled as he nursed just one of the many healing bruises littering his entire body. “Like, so much, I... I couldn't even put it into _words_. I'd need _ages_ just to think of all the dirty, terrible, completely _true_ things I could call you.”

 

Stiles shrugged, setting his phone to the side as he continued picking up broken strips of wood and plastic from the ground, after Noah had finally had enough of being pelted with lacrosse balls and grabbed the stick from Stiles and snapped it to pieces in his hands. “Hey, you got pissed right? _And_ you didn't shift. You can't say my methods didn't work.”

 

It was true. Noah was furious. But he hadn't shifted. He'd kept calm, up until the point Stiles had stopped breathing because he was laughing too hard. “If I could murder you without any consequences I would.” Was his only answer.

 

Stiles grinned and ruffled Noah's hair. “You love me and you know it, Wolf-boy.”

 

Noah's chest clenched, and he choked down the words of acceptance. Not the time for that. He'd only known Stiles for what, two weeks? Agreeing and saying 'Yeah, I love you, maybe a lot, maybe an unhealthy amount, like, I want to spread you out and just worship your _body_ and your _brain_ and your _soul_ for all eternity'... He didn't really think two weeks was a long enough time to have that great of a relationship.

 

“Mmm.” Noah grumbled instead, clearing his throat and nodding over to the jeep. “I'm starving.”

 

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. “Burger and curly fries, and you're buying.”

 

Noah shrugged. “If you get the milkshakes, sure.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Noah grinned, and bent down to help Stiles collect the last pieces of his ruined lacrosse stick. So, maybe he was going to live the illusion that they were going out to the diner for a date. He just spent the past few hours getting pelted non-stop with heavy, hard, balls.

 

...That sounded a lot better in his head. Well, maybe getting pelted with certain balls wouldn't be so

 

 _Okay_ , and that thought's being shut down right about _now_. Noah leaned forward to turn the radio on, switching it to a meaningless pop song that he could sing along to so his brain could maybe behave. He tried to ignore the raging blush that made his face feel like it was on fire and looked anywhere but at Stiles.

 

He could deal with those thoughts later, _in private_. Maybe thinking about Stiles all day wasn't the best of ideas, but it seemed to calm him, keep the young animal inside of him cool and quiet.

 

He didn't think about the implications of that, because really, who was he kidding, there were _none_. Absolutely _no_ implications at all. And not a single delusion as much as Lydia's judging glares from across the classroom would suggest.

 

No _p_ e.

 

Okay. So. _Maybe._ He was just a little bit, teeny tiny, not even any meaningful amount, screwed. In a not so great way. As much as he wanted to be.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles is a tease, sex-talks are mentioned, and sorta-dates happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH IM SO SORRY. I'M TERRIBLE AT THINGS, ESPECIALLY UPDATING THINGS. I'M SORRY FOR ALL THE THINGS. D:
> 
> On another note, This is sooo fun to write.

He was really, really _fucked._ Noah realized, sitting across a diner table from Stiles.

 

Milkshakes were not the best idea. At all.

 

Stiles and his _stupidly_ obscene mouth.

 

Noah watched, completely dumbfounded, as Stiles licked the freaking straw into his mouth, his tongue catching it and pulling it between his plush, pink lips. Then his cheeks hollowed as he sucked.

 

Noah adjusted himself and choked on his peanut butter banana milkshake when Stiles licked his lips, some vanilla ice cream leaking from the corner of his mouth.

 

It was bad enough watching Stiles eat curly fries and lick salt and sauce from his fingers but this. Jesus, this was _torture._

 

He wondered, distantly, what he ever did to deserve this. He didn't really work on the field much when he was a hunter, never had the guts to kill anything, really. Hell, he couldn't even hurt a _fly._

 

So what the hell, he was getting _gypped_ on this whole karma thing.

 

“Fucking karma.”

 

“Hmm?” Stiles' hummed, licking along the straw he'd pulled from the drink, gathering the cold treat up on his tongue, eyes half lidded as he watched Noah.

 

He was going to die of blue balls. And it would be all completely Stiles' fault. He would make sure to have that engraved on his tombstone. _Here lies Noah Andrew Argent; killed from being unable to get laid and because Stiles Stilinski was a cock tease like no other._

 

Yeah. It'd be great. Though Stiles would probably die laughing so maybe not so great.

 

“I'm, gonna go.”

 

Stiles blinked. “But you haven't finished dessert.”

 

Noah cleared his throat. “ _Yeeaaah_. I lost my appetite.”

 

Stiles seemed to pout, then he pulled the straw out of his drink and tilted the cup back and started chugging it. Holy _milky_ _white_ _**throats**_ , Batman...

 

Noah stared, eyes following Stiles' bobbing Adam's apple for a few moments, before Stiles finally slammed the glass down, wincing and pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

 

“Ahh, mm, okay.” Stiles grunted as he tried to power through his brain freeze, then he stood up suddenly. “Right, alright. Ready.”

 

Noah choked back an undignified “Guh.” and followed Stiles to the register, leaving two twenties instead of two fives for a tip because he was suddenly distracted by the magnificence that was Stiles' ass in red skinny jeans. It didn't matter. The waitress deserved it anyway. She didn't shoot him judging looks for him spending most of the time just staring as Stiles' mouth like almost everyone else in the diner. He liked her.

 

On the other hand, he _really hated_ Stiles.

 

“I already asked my dad and Chris if I could steal you for the night, you know, for more training.” Stiles grinned. “I wanted to test out your senses. See where you're at compared to the rest of the pack.”

 

Noah ignored the two different tugs in his chest, one from the wolf inside at the reference that he was included in the pack, and the other from his irrational heart at the idea of staying the night with Stiles.

 

“And my dad should be gone for most of the night so all that wolfy stuff should be good to do if we decided to switch it up.”

 

...Staying the night with Stiles _alone_ apparently.

 

He was probably going to end this night with the Sheriff blowing his head off for him ogling his son. Hey, at least he could say he went out with a bang, heh.

 

His life. He hated it.

 

 

Noah scented the air, searching for Stiles' scent through the house. Granted, if that was all he had to do, this would be simple. No, he had to find Stiles through his scent, while being surrounded by varying degrees of fresh scents of Stiles'.

 

It was proving rather frustrating. To say the least.

 

“Stiles. This is impossible.” He whined.

 

Of course, he didn't get any response. He huffed and tilted his head toward the walls, catching just a hint of Stiles' scent from the old plaster and varying other scents. It was new, maybe... a few minutes old? He wasn't sure, exactly, but he would take it. He followed the scent as well as he could, losing it every few moments only to pick it back up again.

 

After a couple of minutes following a scent and coming up with nothing, he figured Stiles was probably just doing that to lead him off and huffed.

 

He padded upstairs to Stiles room, hoping maybe the obvious would be his answer. Of course, there was no sign of the human. Noah drew in an agitated breath then paused. Oh. The room was saturated with Stiles scent. A heady mix of arousal, fear, frustration and tiredness hung heavy and thick around him. Noah let his mouth fall open, tasting Stiles' scent on his tongue, the taste nearly making his eyes roll back in his head. He smelled so good. These intimate scents just made the deliciousness of Stiles' unique smell even more so.

 

“Geez, you're really bad at this tracking, we need to work on- _um_.” Noah jumped out of his skin at Stiles' voice loud behind him. He clutched one hand to his chest and draped the other over his lower half. He didn't want to even think about trying to explain away why he was so... excited to be sniffing at Stiles' room.

 

Stiles, though, still smirked at him, like he knew, and leaned against the wall in his doorway, making his body one long line of lean muscle. “Well, well. You're certainly one excited puppy. What's got you all twisted up in a knot?”

 

Ugh. _Dog jokes_. Noah grumbled, convincing himself that he really, really hated Stiles, and growled, trying to seem intimidating. Stiles snorted.

 

“Dude, cool it. I'm just yanking your chain. Though, totally just in the bro way.” Stiles smirked, then shifted, nodding his head to the hall. “I gave you to find me until the pizza guy came, so pizza's here. We can watch a movie and I can come up with something training wise to help you not suck.”

 

I might wanna suck somethi- no, no no _STOP._ Bad brain, bad! Very, _VERY bad._

 

Noah cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay. What're our choices?”

 

“Star Wars, or Star Wars.” Stiles grinned. “Take your pick.”

 

 _I love you._ Noah thought as he stared at the boy retreating back down the hallway. Just to make sure, though. “The original trilogy, right?”

 

Stiles scoffed. “Just who do you think I am? Of course!”

 

 _Okay, I love you. A lot._ Noah smiled a little to himself and followed after Stiles.

 

Much to Noah's relief and joy, they spent the rest of the night stretched out on the couch, side by side, legs tangled together, and watched the entire trilogy, moving on to Avengers after they'd finished with that.

 

Later, the Sheriff found the two boys tangled together, Stiles sprawled over the Argent boy, face tucked into his chest as the credits to their last movie rolled. Noah looked up from under the sleeping human and waved, nodding when the father told him to make sure they got up to bed soon. The man then started up the stairs, but paused, turning back, an odd look on his face. “I don't have to give either one of you the talk, do I?”

 

Noah stared up at him for a moment, not realizing what he was talking about, and then getting it, feeling his face go from it's normal color to a bright, hot red in a second. “Uh, no, no, sir. Um, that, that won't be necessary.”

 

The Sheriff stared for a few moments more, then nodded, and climbed up the stairs faster than Noah thought was possible. That wasn't awkward at all.

 

On him, Stiles shifted, smacking his lips and, and puckering up, pressing a soft kiss to Noah's pectorals, mumbling something incoherent enough for him to not understand, even with the supernatural hearing.

 

Warmth erupted in his chest at the act, and he swallowed around the sudden dryness that took up his throat. Noah stared down at the boy, the light from the TV dimming as the movie title screen cut out with the automatic shut off of the player, and a few minutes after that, the room went completely dark. He watched, wondering if Stiles was going to wake up. Probably not. He'd heard horror stories from before he'd arrived in Beacon Hills, and he'd also seen how Stiles took his power naps on Derek's couch in the loft. It took a lot of effort to ever wake him up.

 

With a small sigh, Noah moved off the couch, trying to move Stiles with him as gently as possible. He shifted the teen around until he was carrying him bridal style up the stairs. He ignored his brain's gushing over the position, and how sweet Stiles looked as he was sleeping, and carried them both up the stairs to Stiles' room.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes out defibrillator* CLEAR!!! 
> 
> Okay, so, hi, long time no see. I've been working on and off on this (which you'll probably be able to tell where the stopping points were) for a couple months now. I finally seemed to find a place to stop that I'm okay with, and since I've gotten a comment or two about it, I've posted a new chapter.
> 
> Now, whether it'll be continued past this point? IDK, sorry. I do love writing Noah though. He's the cutest little were to ever wolf. So... we'll see. If it does it does, if it doesn't... well, you know. So, for anyone still reading this. ENJOY!

“ _Noahhh._ _Noah_.” A lovely voice called out to him, soft hands caressing his face. “ _Noah_. Dude, Noah, come on. We're gonna be late for school.”

 

 _SLAP_. Waking with a start, Noah scrambled up. At least, as much as he could with Stiles kneeling over him, a hand raised and an innocent expression on his face.

 

“Uhh...” Stiles pulled his raised hand back and rocked back onto his heels. “Don't wolf out and kill me. I'm not worth it, I probably wouldn't even taste too good.”

 

Noah's highly inappropriate brain thought otherwise. But he was going to ignore it. “Mm.” Noah grunted, lifting Stiles off of him and watching as the other teen flailed for a moment before he was tossed off onto the floor with a yelp. Noah was also going to pretend he wasn't wearing a huge, smug grin as he pulled himself out of bed on the opposite side and padded off to the bathroom.

 

“You're such a dick, dude.” Stiles groaned when he finally gathered himself up off the floor, reaching past where Noah was fixing his hair in the mirror to grab his toothbrush. “Last time I help you out.”

 

Noah shrugged, and Stiles, in retaliation, elbowed his way in front of the mirror, shoving his toothbrush into his mouth with a silly grin as Noah glared.

 

Noah gave a huff and moved to scoot out of the room behind Stiles, when the younger boy, wearing a smirk to end all smirks, bent over the sink, pushing his ass into Noah's crotch. Oh holy hell.

 

Feeling like his entire body had just combusted in a hot, burning fire, he yanked himself out into the hall, stumbling back to the bedroom to find some clothes.

 

Pausing with his own shirt in his hands, Noah glanced over to Stiles' closet. He could... but then that might be going too far. But the look on Stiles' face would probably be worth the look on the rest of the pack's faces...

 

Grinning a little to himself, Noah checked to make sure Stiles wasn't going to come flailing in anytime soon, he dug around in Stiles' closet until he found what smelled like a fairly worn shirt, the scent of detergent and soap fading under the strong scent of Stiles. Must be worn a lot. Shrugging, Noah tugged it over his head, finding it just a touch tighter than he'd normally wear, but nothing too bad.

 

Walking out of the room, he passed Stiles, who gaped at him, eyes staying on his shirt for a moment before he blushed, cheeks and neck going to pretty red-pink, making his many moles stark against the heated skin. Noah, being the smug little shit he loved to be, winked and padded down the stairs to raid the Stilinski's kitchen.

 

Of course, his reaction of choking on a poptart was totally rational when Stiles came strutting in with the shirt he wore yesterday, their scents mingling even more strongly than what he was wearing right under his nose.

 

Stiles grinned at him, licking his lips as he strutted past. When Noah had finally recovered with some water to help the toaster pastry down his throat, he heard Stiles mutter something just loud enough for him to hear that nearly made him choke again.

 

“Tease me all you want, Wolf Boy, but just remember I give back just as good as I get.” He paused, ripping open the packaging to the last poptarts in the box Noah had left out, and acting nonchalant as he waltz out of the room, before he finished. “And I meant that in every way you can imagine, Argent.”

 

Noah choked again, his wheezing overshadowed by Stiles' uproarious laughter.

 

 

“Um.”

 

“Why are you wearing each other's clothes?”

 

“You both reek!”

 

“Is there something you two should tell us?”

 

“I thought last night was just a training session!”

 

Scott's last cry overshadowed everyone else's questions, his eyes wide and looking just a little bit betrayed at Stiles.

 

Stiles shrugged. “It was.” Scott blinked owlishly, but looked placated. “There's absolutely nothing to tell.” Lydia narrowed her eyes, disbelieving. “And... no comment.” Allison and Erica both looked as if they believed him as much as Lydia did, while Isaac gave them both a mighty side eye that said, 'I know you're lying but I'll just let you live in denial for now' and Boyd, who was hardly paying attention to them in the first place past looking up when the others started throwing questions at them, just shrugged and looked back down to his school work.

 

“You really expect us to believe that?” Lydia leaned back in her desk, looking between the two of them with calculating eyes. “Noah came in here looking like he turns into a cherry rather than a wolf, and you were smirking like you'd just gotten away with robbing a sex shop of all the good stuff. You two are very clearly fuc-”

 

“Enough!” Scott cried desperately, looking about two seconds away from closing his eyes and holding his hands over his ears. Stiles snorted a laugh at his best friend's behavior.

 

“Really, Scotty? After all the times I had to put up with listening about your sexual exploits?”

 

Scott whined. “Yeah but, dude... he's Allison's cousin. And you're like my brother, dude. It's weird.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and the two started muttering between each other. After that, everyone seemed to calm down about it. Noah slumped back into his desk, relieved. Maybe taking Stiles' shirt wasn't worth it after all. He took a deep breath, the scent clinging to his skin and the boy sitting behind him rolled over him, like a blanket of warmth and comfort and, somehow, of home. A real, happy home. He smiled a little, rolling his pencil between his fingers. Then again... He'll have this scent with him all day...

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced around, to make sure Harris wasn't about to walk into the classroom and confiscate his phone, and pulled it out to check for a message.

 

_**Alli A** :_

 

_You would tell me if you two were dating right? You know you can tell me anything Noah._

 

He smiled, he couldn't be happier to have Alli here with him. He quickly texted back.

 

_**You** :_

 

_Yes, Alli, of course I would. Nothing's going on, honest. Just a little crush, doesn't matter._

 

Only a few seconds passed before his phone went off again. He could hear Harris coming from down the hall. He glanced over to Allison and mouthed. “We'll talk later.” as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, just a few seconds before the Chemistry teacher was walking in, just before the tardy bell rang.

 

“Phone's away, and everyone quiet.” He barked, walking hastily to the front of the classroom. “Today we'll be taking a quiz, so for your sake, I hope you all have been keeping up with your studies, since this quiz will be for twenty-five percent of your final grade.” He eyed Stiles as he spoke, and Noah bristled. He really did not like Harris for the way he endlessly treated Stiles like trash. At his old school he'd always loved chemistry, he was good at it, but here he despised the teacher, and the subject, for this very reason.

 

Noah raised his hand, before he'd even completely thought through was he was going to say. Harris' eyes snapped forward onto him, before they narrowed. “Yes, Mr. Argent, what is it?”

 

Noah lowered his hand and swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts and coming up empty. “Um...” He shrugged. “Doesn't that seem a little unfair, to put that much pressure on a pop quiz like that?”

 

Harris stared for a few moments then sighed. “Well, I suppose I can excuse your ignorance this time, since you're new here, but everyone else knows that I do not tolerate stupidity and laziness in my classroom.” He glanced back at Stiles again, and he could sense the flare of agitation from behind him. “Now, no more questions, and no more chatting.” He handed a stack of quizzes to each student in the front row. “Pass them back. Do not look any other desk but your own. Anyone who speaks will instantly fail. I'll tell you when to begin, and when to end. Anyone still writing after I say to stop, will also fail. You have forty-five minutes for two-hundred questions.” He waited until everyone had their tests, then started a timer on his desk. “Begin.”

 

Asshole. Noah thought grumpily as he flipped open his test. Maybe you'll get mauled by a bear or something and put us all out of our misery.

 

 

“Pencils down, tests closed.”

 

Noah sat up, setting down the pencil he'd been rolling between his fingers. He'd finished about five minutes ago, just a little bit after Lydia, who was glancing over her nails for any imperfections as the final minutes came. Stiles, he could hear, was still working on his, and a glance back at him and from the sound of the pages rustling, he was close to finishing it, probably only just a few questions.

 

“Pass your test books forward, and do not speak for the rest of the class until you are dismissed.”

 

The sound of papers rustling through to the front of the class filled the room, some grumbling and frustrated huffs nearly overshadowed by it. Noah looked back at Stiles to find him leaning back in his seat, jaw seat and eyes down. He bit his lip, and glanced at Stiles' test for a second before passing them forward. He frowned, noticing a distinct difference in the questions from Stiles' test to the rest of them. They must be from an advanced track, I don't even know some of those questions. And it looked like he had a couple more questions. Maybe twenty. At least two more pages. He glared up at Harris as he slumped back in his seat and watched the tests move forward. That's not right. Why the hell does he single Stiles' out? What the hell did he even do?

 

The bell chimed for dismissal, and Noah was grabbing his bag and turning around to help Stiles gather all his things – which didn't take much, he seemed to have the same idea as Noah and pack everything up to get out of the room as soon as possible – and they were the first two out of the door and into the hallway, which was empty for a few seconds before other classrooms starting flooding out.

 

“That guy is an asshole.” Noah muttered, after a few seconds of dragging Stiles around. Stiles' seemed to follow along just as well, his heart pounding with his anger, thumping right alongside with Noah's. “That's not even fair, what he did. Did you know he gave you harder questions, and more questions? Like, those have to be for college level, or something. Stuff way more advanced than for a basic chemistry class.”

 

Stiles huffed. “He always does that. He seems to enjoy watching me fail. A sick pleasure of his to see his students suffer.”

 

“Yeah, but he targets you.” Noah stopped them, turning around to face the human. “Why? What happened to make him do that?”

 

Stiles shrugged. “I guess I'm a nuisance to him, or a disturbance to his precious classroom, I dunno. Why the hell he chose to be a teacher when he obviously dislikes his students is beyond me.”

 

Noah frowned, taking in Stiles' flushed cheeks and neck, and the way his hands clenched and unclenched. Then, Noah just blurted out the first thing he could think of to possibly help comfort him. “Do you want to get out of here?”

 

Stiles blinked up at him, then grinned. “Why Mr. Argent, are you suggesting we play hooky?”

 

He shrugged. “Maybe, I mean. How terrible can it be to miss one day?” He smiled. “You can shove me around and be my werewolf Yoda for the rest of the day.”

 

Stiles' eyes lit up and he laughed. “Yeah, okay.” He shook his head. “Maybe some other time, wolf boy. I think I can survive the rest of the day.” He glanced at his phone for the time and turned on his heel to head off to his next class. “I'll push you around after school, okay? I'll take out my frustrations on you, so you better be prepared for an absolutely grueling training session.”

 

Noah laughed. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

 

Stiles smirked. “Oh it's on. Meet me at the jeep before the buses roll out, or your walking to the preserve.”

 

“I'll be there before you even get out of the building.”

 

Stiles chuckled. “And if you aren't, you're paying for dinner tonight.”

 

Noah's heart thudded in his chest. He had the fleeting image of taking Stiles out for a date, paying for a fancy dinner, Stiles in a suit. He swallowed, and nodded. “You're on.”

 

Stiles grinned, and the second to last bell rang, and then he was off, rushing down the hall to get to his next class. Noah shook his pleasant daydream of tugging Stiles' across the table with his tie to taste his mouth, and spun around to race across the quad to get to his art class. He couldn't be more relieved for his werewolf speed than at the moment he just barely got passed the threshold of the art room before the tardy bell rang.

 

Lydia glanced up when he walked over to his desk, and gave him a little smirk. “You're cutting it close. Get distracted off with your boyfriend?”

 

Noah blushed and glared at her. “Not my boyfriend.”

 

She shrugged. “Oh right, you just wish he was.” She grinned, humming to herself, just low enough for him to hear. “And he wishes you were, too.”

 

Noah sank into his seat, feeling his face heat up even more. “Shush it, Martin.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, and dropped her eyes to her sketchbook. “Whatever. You know I'm right, somewhere in that dense head of yours.”

 

Noah fought down the ridiculous urge to stick his tongue out at her. Instead, he focused on his work, opening his sketchbook and doodling away. The teacher let them do a lot of what they wanted in this class, as long as they did something productive, so he could daze away a little as long as he did something.

 

He thought about what could happen later. Maybe he could be late on purpose. Maybe Stiles would let him pick where they went, and he could get them to go somewhere nice, somewhere date-like. _Or I could grow a pair and ask him out?_

 

He shook his head. Yeah, right. Just because Stiles was acting all flirty around him and such didn't actually mean anything. He'd seen Stiles around, well, everyone. He flirted with anything that moved. He figured it was just something the human did without realizing half the time. He wouldn't want to go out with the rookie werewolf.

 

Lydia cleared her throat, and Noah tuned back into the present. He paused, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. Without even realizing it he'd drawn a smooth, lean and muscled back, moles speckled across it like stars, a face turned toward him with a small, familiar smirk.

 

He flushed and flipped to a new page, resolutely ignoring the knowing hums from Lydia. Just because he was irrationally attracted didn't mean anything would come of this. He knew better than to get his hopes up. He'd just be glad being friends, really.

 

Just friends. It was fine. He told himself. Inside, that other part of him, the newer part, strongly disagreed. Whining and begging like he was taking away a gift he hadn't even gotten yet. He ignored it, too. It was fine. Everything, perfectly fine, he lied.

 

 


End file.
